


Rest Your Weary Head

by ComposerEgg



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Consensual Possession, Extreme Headcanoning, M/M, Possession, in not a sexy way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerEgg/pseuds/ComposerEgg
Summary: “Josh,” he shudders out, raspy and dry-mouthed, nerves still sparking like the white lightning flying from Joshua’s body, “what in the everloving fuck, was that?”What he gets in response is a pearly-white smile and a bone chilling sentence. “I’m not Josh!”





	Rest Your Weary Head

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [and into sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921066) by [seryphsystem (Slie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slie/pseuds/seryphsystem). 



> Hey yall it's your pal Egg back at it again with the fics. Shout out to my pals who beta'd this for me! [cavesalamander](http://cavesalamander.tumblr.com/), [spiremint](http://spiremint.tumblr.com/), and [meredithsock](http://meredithsock.tumblr.com/) are all super rad helpful friends with good input.
> 
> Edit: added the "inspired by" because I can't believe I forgot to include that earlier. Srsly good fic check it out!

The dreadful sense of _wrong_ finds a home in Neku’s stomach, a sinking stone dropping dead into the pit in his gut, as he approaches the Dead God’s Pad.

He can’t sense Joshua’s Music. The melodies spinning in the back of his head are off-kilter; Shibuya is amplified and distorted against the normal backdrop. Notes fall out of place, dance around. The staff is twisted, curling and breaking the lines only to weave and mend back together.

His footsteps echo, bouncing off the concrete in the eerie silence as he passes by the Rubicon. No Reapers lurk nearby, the water is still, and the chill seeps into his skin.

Maybe coming here unannounced, unplanned, is the reason his nerves are spiking, but it’s too late to turn back. He slides through the barrier, pins and needles trailing up his arms and legs, like it’s a vaguely prickly bush. Neku knows no Reaper can get through unless permitted to by the Composer. Presumably the Conductor could let them in as well, but there is none now.

But he’s Neku. He could make it to the Room of Reckoning on his own, no permission granted by anyone, except for Hanekoma saying it’d _probably work fine_.

He doesn’t know what to expect. What he finds, Josh lazing around on the couch, is normal. Confirming that the Musical distortion is coming from him, not so much.

And the high-pitched shrill of pure excitement, raised an octave higher than he’s ever heard Josh’s voice go, pierces his ears and throws him into the deep end of the pool with no clue how to get out.

“ _You’re Neku!!!!!!!_ ” and _ow_ , okay, bright fireworks shooting off in rainbow colors, paints splashed in the forefront of his mind. He can _feel_ those exclamation marks. Much in the same way he feels how Josh tackles him. Josh is all knees and elbows as he throws himself at Neku and wraps his arms around him.

Neku stumbles back, and they fall to the floor, Josh rolling off to the side a moment later. Neku takes the chance to stare, eyes scanning over Joshua’s body for any sign of what the fuck is wrong. The only major thing he can see is how he’s in a long-sleeved shirt and wearing socks. Joshua _hated_ long sleeves, and Neku could recall getting socks flung at his face more than once after a day spent walking about.

Along with the fact that Joshua is _giggling_. It’s very much not the standard teasing giggle, too bouncy. There’s a glow surrounding his body, afterimages imprinted in the air as he _vibrates_ , incapable of remaining still. Music is spiraling away, dispersing into the air. Wisps of white energy do much the same, curling up and outward at random intervals from Joshua’s body.

Neku must’ve taken too long to react, because the next thing he registers is Josh poking him on the nose, and then

 

 

 

                                                     W̘̩̞͉͇̤̲̤ͣͧͪ̍̓h̟̗̠͖͎̳̜̟̤̲̭̝̮̻͍̘̺̮̿̑͆͋͗͌̒ͩ͒̈̂ͨ̏̂̾ͩ̉̂̎ͅï̺͉̥̟̞̬̝̘̘̠ͨ̽̊ͅṭ͖̹̝̟̞̯̐ͯ͒ͣͯ̃ͮ͐̋ͤ̔̊e̞͍̱͕̭̹̺̺̲̬̪̩͇ͮ̍̏̓̏͂͊ͯ̄͊

 

_s̡̧ ̡͠t͞ ̴͡a̡̛-͠_

_-t͜ ̨i ̸c_

 

_M͐ͦ̎̃̽͛͛͡ü̴̎̀ͨ̇͑̿s̷̵̛ͦ̈͂̍̓͗̈́į̈́ͭ̋̈́͡c̓͊̌͗ͦ̈́ͮ͟͡_

                                         f̙̜̹̥̮͑̅l̦ͯ͆ͧô̄õ̂d͕̠̙̰͠ͅĭ̵̥̖̘̂̿͒̍͐̑n̯͇͎͈̹̺̳̿ͥ̉̓̓̽g̅ͫ̉̚ ̺̥̞̤͋̈̅̇h̩í̪͈͍̦̤͎͇ͮ̿ș̟̐̋̂̊ ̍̽͌ͣ͌̾͝s̼̞͖̰̹̭̽y̛̯̳̻̠ͧ͆s̩̹͙̺̏ͨ̔ͣͨt̠͋̄͘e̷̟͕ͪͥ͊͋ͨm͇̹͙̟̎̆͋ͣ̒̂͌͜

 

_S̙̠͓ͅ-̤̲̣̯̗̦͓̥ͅh̜̻͚̖̲͙̯͍͍͍̦-̺̪̪͍̣͖̳̩̟i̻̮̪͙̭-͍̯̫̞̜̖͕̮̼̟͈̼͔̘̣͈ͅb̩̦̠̙͙͎͎̜͇̮̝̰-̳̟͚̭̠̖͚͍͍u͚̮ͅ-͉̥̫̻͕͓̘͈̱y̻͍͈͔͕̩̦-̗͉͉̲̗̦̞̻͚̻̤̫̺ͅa̰͕̘̖͈͔̳̝̱̦͈̰̹̩͎͍͚ͅ_

                                   e̿͏vͪ̇͌̑̅͒eͫ͐̀̌͛̒͒ŕ̴y̸ẁ̄͐͝h̓͘e͌r̵ȅ͐ͪ̌ͮ̋͝ ̧ ͬ ̛̄͗ ̄̒ͥ̒̾̚ iͩ̓̂ͦ̒̾ň̨͂ͫ̆̋ ̵̓ͯh̎̍i̓͛͜sͧ͐͌̓͛̎̓͏ eͬ̄͂a̧ͭ͛řs̔ͪͧͬ̋͊ ̸̎͋̇a̿͛͑̂n͋͗͗d̉ͫͮ̆ͦ **ͫ̾ͧ͜eͦ͜ý̓͑͑̾̂e̓͒̏ͨͥ҉s̊ͧ̕**

 

                                                                                                                                                            a th͞ou͝sa͟nd͢ v͝ǫļt҉s of͘ ͜ele̸c̶t̡r̵i͝city͢ ̵r̛unn҉i҉ng ͝t͝h͝ro͠ugh҉ hi͝s ͜n̢e͡rv̷es fryi͜ng͡ ͝h͡i͟s͘ e̛y̸e̡s҉ ҉a͘nd͏ ͏it’s ̡to͜o mu҉c̷h͜ _to̶o m͢uch͢ h̵e ca͜n̵’̷t **b͔̰͘r ͈̪̜̼̪e̩ ̼͍a̖̺̳̘̩ ̬͎̳̹͟ț̡ ̣̫̥͇̩̕h͇̝̠̖͔̣͉ ͏͈̪ͅe̺͖͠.̘̬̪̙.̞̻̤̣͜ ̦̲͙̯̫̥.̜̭ ͉͞.͓͎͙̭**_

And then it’s over.

 

His vision comes back blurry, and his body is buzzing, bursting with energy, all his senses on high-alert. It takes several blinks before he can clearly make out Josh(?) again. A shaky intake of air fills his lung, and it rattles around in there, so he takes a few more breaths to calm his nerves. His body is screaming, _burning_ , oxygen depletion causing his muscles to ache, starved.

“ _Josh_ ,” he shudders out, raspy and dry-mouthed, nerves still sparking like the white lightning flying from Joshua’s body, “what in the everloving _fuck_ , was that?”

What he gets in response is a pearly-white smile and a bone chilling sentence. “I’m not Josh!”

Neku’s hands clench into fists, the chill seeping back into him, deeper now. It’s an icicle in his veins. Saline from an IV drip. It’s a blue flame that _burns_ deep inside of him, has been burning since the Game. The after-effects of weaponizing your Soul, twisting it into a tool, one that springs forth and _itches_ for a fight. It burns in his blood, stings like hot water on frostbite.

“Who are you, and what have you done to Josh?” he growls, spitting out sharp-edged, crushed ice in his tone. The air around him wavers, the hue darkening, and if he could just _reach out_ Neku feels like he could _grasp at that power_. It lurks in him, he knows, psychic energy that never left. _He could use it, shatter the glass barrier holding him back with a fist, call forth shards of ice from the ground and lightning to fight against the person who **dares** do something horrible to Josh, hurt him or possess him or control him--_

Except he can’t. He can’t raise a hand against _Josh_. He’s pretty sure this is his body, and to hurt him, summon powers to _fight him_?

Neku could never strike out, threaten a friend.

The imposter is pouting at him, looking hurt by the fact that Neku doesn’t trust… whatever this is. Annoyed eyes glare at him in a way he’s never seen on Joshua’s face before, arms crossed, sitting cross legged on the glass, and all the fish have scattered. “Relax, Neku, I promise I haven’t done anything to him! Joshua is just sleeping! I’m Shibuya!”

What the fuck.

“How the hell is _this_ ,” Neku gestures to the body in front of him, still bouncing and bubbly, “anything like being asleep?”

He blurts that out, then frowns. Not the most important topic right now. On one hand, it would explain a lot, if this were true. Between the Music, the white static that coursed through him upon skin contact, and the overall _weirdness_ of this, it would fit. But it could be a ruse, a lie to masquerade a sinister truth.

“Sleep is different for Composers. At least I think it is. He needs to sleep. He doesn’t get enough. When he needs to sleep, he lets me take over this body. Though, I’m not supposed to go interact with people, or do much besides stay here. It’s dangerous for me to go out.” It’s all stated as fact, but Neku narrows his eyes.

“How can I trust that what you’re saying is real, when all I see is Joshua’s body being used as a puppet?” he asks. There’s no way of knowing whether or not Joshua is okay, not while the Maybe-Shibuya is using him to speak.

A frown settles on Joshua’s face, lips curved down as thoughts are processed and ideas considered. It strikes Neku, the similarity it has to how Josh might look when he’s deep in thought, and yet how _wrong_ it feels. There’s too much in the expression; it’s too open, whereas Josh hides himself behind walls.

“I can wake him up for you, if you want. He won’t be too annoyed, especially not when he realizes that you’re here. He likes you. I like you,” Shibuya says, giving him a small smile. A flicker in the notes of the city’s Music ring truth to that statement.

Then the air _shifts_. The overbearing _presence_ fades away, Shibuya no longer pounding her notes into his head. Everything is static, blaring in his head, but then, like a radio being tuned to the right station, the song comes back on.

Joshua’s Music _flourishes_ around him, blooming bright in the melody he carries. The sun no longer shrouded by clouds. This is _Josh_ , and Neku lets out a sigh, a wave of relief washing through him.

The air is no longer crackling with energy as Josh blinks and rubs his head, letting out a low groan. “Can’t even take a decent nap, huh?” he mutters. “What’s so urgent I need to be woken up for--” he cuts himself off as he looks up at Neku.

“Oh.”

Neku snorts, relief like a cool burst of air leaving his lungs. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” Neku knows Joshua will ask if he’s serious about the food, but for now Josh is too busy laughing, so he nips the question in the bud. “Well,” he says, “that’s a lie. I don’t have eggs or bacon for you. I do have some _questions_ , though.”

Joshua sighs, rubbing a hand down his  face, and they both know that the _situation_ needs to be addressed. Finding the words to breach the topic, however, is like cutting through ice.

“So,” Josh starts, “how much did your impromptu meeting with Shibuya freak you out?”

“Considering I was getting ready to _fight a city_?” His voice wavers, a sarcastic coating to hide the sharp, knife-edge fear lying beneath. “I’d give it an eight out of ten.”

“She’s energetic and impulsive, so that’s not surprising, but what did she _do_?” he asks, and there’s a fog, hiding the anxiety in that voice, but Neku knows how to see through it. He’s learned the little twitches that Joshua does, from his eyes flickering to Neku only to dart away again, or the break in his rhythmic tapping.

“She looked like you, but _very much wasn’t you!_ ” Neku’s voice cracks, and if it were almost anyone else here, he’d try to shroud it with a curtain to keep people from noticing. But this is Josh, he’s one of the few people allowed to see Neku’s emotions, no matter how sharp the broken edges might be.

Joshua’s expression softens, the ghost of sincerity hiding in his smile. He reaches out and takes Neku’s hand. There’s no shock, this time, no jolts of electricity buzzing through his veins and frying his nerves, but he almost expects it. Neku’s almost-flinch doesn’t go unnoticed, eyes zeroing in on the motion, but if Josh has something to say about it, he holds off, for now.

“Shibuya isn’t really a _person_ ,” Joshua says, slipping into exposition mode, voice monotone. “She’s a city, an entity. Cities don’t often have physical bodies, they can’t comprehend how to act like a human. If I let Shibuya take control, I get to curl up in the back of my mind and sleep.”

“I see.” He doesn’t, he really doesn’t. The confusion is written in squiggly lines on his face, in the way his Music pitches upwards to question.

“Composers _can’t_ sleep. Not unless they downtune to the RG, which leaves them vulnerable.”

Neku frowns. “Are you telling me you haven’t slept since becoming Composer?” The concept made Neku yawn. His limbs were heavy with leaden-sleep deprivation by the end of the day, he couldn’t imagine never sleeping. The concept was a wisp, darting away out of reach.

“No. Well, yes.” Josh sighs. “It’s not the same as sleeping, but I can tether Shibuya to my body, and retreat to the back of my mind.” He holds up a finger to stop Neku’s forming question. “It’s peaceful, I don’t have to think or _do_ anything. I miss true sleep, but this works.”

The air in his mouth shifts as his jaw opens and closes, trying to find the words in the pressurized bubble between his tongue and the top of his mouth. It’s not quite grasping for straws; it’s herding thoughts like cats, or scooping water into a glass with your hands.

“Does it… _hurt_?” he asks, finding his voice. “Like, is it dangerous? How does it _work_?”

“It doesn’t hurt, and the danger varies,” says Josh. His voice is lace. If one is not careful, it will tear. “If the city does not like their Composer, or the Composer has a weak will, they may be assimilated. Shibuya and I get along fine, better than ever now!” The false cheer in his voice spikes like a seismograph picking up on an earthquake, and it drops just as fast. “Skin contact can be a danger to others, though.”

“Is that why it felt like I’d been electrocuted when she touched me?” The echoes of the shock still buzz under his skin.

Joshua pulls back, ripping his hand away from Neku’s like a startled cat. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his face, before he speaks again.”Er, yeah, that would be why. It’s a sort of… defense mechanism. If she deems someone dangerous, all it would take is a touch for them to be flooded with Shibuya’s Music, and Erased. But I’m sure that wasn’t her intention with you!” He’s quick to reassure, as if Neku would turn and leave at the slightest hint of danger.

“It seemed… Playful, if anything.” He reaches out, hand hovering indecisive in the air, before grabbing Joshua’s hand. The skin is flawless, soft, like the rest of Josh, and the hand is warm. He knows the warmth is a lie, coldness like ice buried deep beneath the skin. He didn’t know, until he surprised Josh one time, and found his skin cold and clammy. The skin of a dead body. The heat against his own skin is done for his comfort, and Neku knows.

A smile flickers on Josh’s face, hesitant. “She’s fond of you, and I can’t say I blame her. You helped us both. She’s thankful. I’m thankful.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, feel free to check out my other twewy fics!! I've written a ton, like, so many, oh my god yall. I've got so many WIPs right now too. I'm drowning over here in twewy. 
> 
> The Zalgo reads "White. Static. Music flooding his system. Shibuya everywhere in his ears and eyes. A thousand volts of electricity running through his nerves frying his eyes and it's too much too much he can't breathe"
> 
> ALSO PLEASE comment!!!!!! Comments are the best I Literally Die when I get nice comments. Critique is welcome but you can also just keysmash at me I love it all. I put so much time and effort into this fic and I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, hearing your thoughts would make my fucking month.
> 
> EDIT: [I have a twewy discord now! It's here!](https://discord.gg/pEADe9J)


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